A Modest Proposal
by Lizard Pie
Summary: les Deux-Epées is the best choice for the newly-vacant Master of Arms position. The only problem is it turns out she's a woman, and about to be married off besides.


That Assassins had attended a Quirmian debutante ball wasn't in and of itself unusual. These sorts of things were society events, after all, and there wasn't much Assassins liked more than being seen as a part of society.

These particular ones, though, were looking for Markus les Deux-Epées. They assumed he was there to find a wife, and they weren't wrong about that. There was the unwelcome surprise, though, that the man they'd asked for had never actually been to Ankh-Morpork. He'd studied in Quirm while his cousin used a copy of his birth certificate to enroll in the Assassins Guild.

And, being the rat he'd grown up to be, Markus spelled that out incredibly clearly. He'd send for her, even.

Marcella's heart pumped, deafeningly, in her ears as she ducked behind the wall.

The true recent graduate, the former Captain of the fencing team, and the "fine young man who'd well earned taking the black," was now considered of proper marrying age according to Quirmian high society. Per her family's request, as repayment for her tuition at the Guild, she had been dressed in a white ball gown with golden accents. Her hair, that'd finally grown long enough after the few years since graduation, had been done up. Her makeup highlighted feminine features she generally did all she could to hide, as if the low neckline wasn't all it took to give her away.

It'd been nice, for an evening, to actually look like a woman. Refreshing, even. But now...

She'd heard rumors that, if a woman managed to graduate, the Guild would quietly award her the title to avoid embarrassment. She'd also heard far more concrete stories of what happened to girls who'd been caught.

Just to be safe, she'd kept up the disguise whenever she'd gone into the branch office to take up clients, chest bound and hair pulled down below her collar. She'd been as careful as she could, and until then she'd been fairly sure she'd been pulling it off.

Seemed rather like Assassins to come after her when she didn't have her swords handy, though. She'd tried to hide a dagger in her dress, at least, but the hostess had spotted her putting it on and confiscated it. And the knife at her ankle. If she survived this, she'd have to thank Markus for setting everything up so nicely.

"Ah, there you are, Marcella!"

It was all she could do not to jump.

"You have suitors," the hostess sang as she took her arm. "They've been looking for you."

"Ma'am, I really don't think..."

"Nonsense, they came all the way from Ankh-Morpork!" She lowered her voice and, with a sly smile, added, "And they're dressed divinely, it just screams of good breeding. Definitely a strong prospect."

Marcella was dragged out from her hiding place, and over to men multiple times her age. She had to wonder what, besides money and a penis, the hostess thought a 'fine catch' meant.

With no other options, she curtseyed as they gave her a hard stare. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lord Downey, Mr Mericet." She straightened back up, and wished again for the dagger. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Is this some kind of joke?" Mr Mericet demanded.

The hostess faltered. "This is Mademoiselle Marcella les Deux-Epées, as you'd requested..."

"It's alright, Ma'am," she said. "I'll take it from here." After the objecting hostess was properly shoo'd away, Marcella dropped her voice down to the male imitation she'd used for years. "I assume you're not here just to see me get married off."

"When did _this_ happen?" Lord Downey demanded. He motioned vaguely to the entirety of her, but especially her neckline.

"Around the time I was ten, sir."

"Don't get smart." He rubbed his temple. "Two days' trip and this is what we find..."

"Can I at least ask why you came out at all? I didn't think there was an issue in the Quirmian branch," she asked. After a moment of thought, and a settling into the realization they weren't there to kill her, she added, "Did something happen to Mr Wilkinson?"

"Metalshop accident," Mr Mericet explained. "And originally, Markus les Deux-Epées had been slated as the top choice for his replacement. But, evidently, he's actually a banker who's never touched a sword in his life."

Marcella nodded, her head working around the whole situation. "Shame, that. I, on the other hand, was undefeated in my schooling career. I'd be a much better choice."

"Far as our records go, you never attended," Lord Downey told her, firmly. "We will grant you your graduation, to keep things quiet and civil. But we have other options for the position. People who didn't forge-"

"Who's next in line?"

"Mr Jha," he said, deftly.

Marcella scoffed, innocently as she could. "The one who never got past third best on the fencing team? And who's doubtlessly back in Ghat by now, in the complete opposite direction?"

The two Assassins paused.

"He's a fine choice, I suppose, as long as you don't need anyone who knows how to handle a long sword." She put up a hand to shield her mouth from the crowd, "And, of course, the less said about his skills with throwing knives the better. Though I'm sure the families who pay Guild tuition won't mind."

"Now see here, Miss-" Mr Mericet began.

Marcella stood up straighter, and steeled her gaze to match theirs. "With all due respect, sir, I've been the best swordsman to come out of the Guild in years." She spat the word, but moved on. "I am the most suited for the job, and the only thing standing between me and the position is the womb that my family is set to auction off." She eyed the receiving line of debutantes, and the mass of young suitors that flooded after it.

She leaned forward and let her voice drop a bit softer. "I would love to prove my worth by once again defeating Mr Jha, but I don't have the several weeks it'd take for you to fetch him. I probably don't even have until the end of the night before I'm made permanently unavailable." She did her best to stay strong, but felt more than a bit of pleading creep in. "If you want the best candidate, you have to take me now."

Mr Mericet eyed her, and then pulled Lord Downey back to have a muttered conversation.

She did her best not to look too hopeful when they glanced back at her periodically. It was even harder to do when they walked back over.

Lord Downey motioned to her, vaguely. "You understand you'll be expected to dress like a proper Assassin."

"Feel positively scandalous in white, sir," she said, with an eager nod.

"Good. Now..." He looked about at the pomp and circumstance around him. The idea of an auction wasn't far off, much as he might care to deny it. He swore he'd heard someone brag about their progeny having 'birthing hips'. "You know this tradition. How do we undo... This."

"Only way I can think," she admitted, "Is that you'll have to announce your intentions, sir."

Mr Mericet scowled. "Never had an issue like this recruiting male tutors."

"You won't have had a better edged weapons instructor, either," she told him.

"We must move with the times," Lord Downey added, with a shrug in his voice so as not to ruin his formal posture. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"May as well." He raised a hand and called over the Hostess. "I'll be taking this young woman back to Ankh-Morpork with me."

The hostess let out a strangled, "Er..." as if the extreme age gap that she herself had set up had suddenly dawned on her. She looked, nervously, to Marcella, "Mademoiselle , you can..."

"It's 'Madame' now, please," Marcella corrected. "I've found a strong prospect. That's what tonight was about, wasn't it?"

The hostess stuttered her way through the starts of objections as the three Assassins headed for the door.

"How long before you can be back at the Guild?" Lord Downey asked.

"A few days, sir," Marcella told him. "I have to get a few things in order, I have to pack, try and explain this to my parents... Oh," she thought with a smirk, "I definitely do have to thank my cousin."

* * *

She'd never thought she'd see the Guild again. And she'd definitely never thought that she'd be there openly as a woman. And all she had to do to stay there was to not die. That was now considerably easier, without breast binding digging into her back or having to pray that nobody was going to spy something they shouldn't in the locker room.

It was exhilarating and terrifying, and...

As she spotted someone across the courtyard, she realized it would be even better than she'd thought.

"Why, Alex Band!" She called. "I never thought I'd see you again!"

Ms Band's head snapped up, and she smiled back. "Markus, my boy! Welcome back!"

The two women talked excitedly about a lot of things, in particular how strange and amazing it felt to wear a dress on campus. Mr Mericet looked down of in from a window, and then exhaustedly over to Lord Downey.

"The times you want to keep up with appear to be giggling on our campus."

"The Guild is here to foster and monitor talent," Lord Downey said, plainly, as he set up for the introductory staff meeting. "Same reason we take in scholarship boys."

"Scholarship boys don't hug and carry on like that," he replied, disdainfully. "It's unprofessional."

"It's not up to either one of us. And, even if it were... We have two poisons masters who've been teaching nearly as long as I have, an explosives specialist with a knack for getting through defenses, and a blades expert who was hired because she'd bested the last one. Exactly which one do you want to make into an enemy of the- Oh, no, wait..." He peered down to the courtyard, where the senior female tutors had gathered to greet the newcomer. "Seems they all get along. That'd be quite the team to fend off."

"I've got it."

Lord Downey patted him on the shoulder. "Progress is in your best interest as well, old boy. Besides, aren't you rather married to the idea?"

He laughed as the look, somehow, became even more exhausted.


End file.
